Day Eleven

A million things ran though my mind as we approached my house. What would he think about where I lived? I lived on a country road in a very old and very small house. It wasn't a dump, but it wasn't anything fancy either. What would he think of my old granny? God, I hoped she wouldn't embarrass me with one of her stories. She loved to tell stories. And I'd heard them all before. What did he think about me? We had stopped talking. It wasn't uncomfortable in the least, still I studied every nuance of his movement beside me trying to figure out thoughts as they jetted through his mind. We walked very close together as it was pitch black now. Towering limber trees lined the dirt road on either side of us, giving us safe passage while taking in the sound of our every footfall. Far off there was a creature howling while all around us lived a constant hum of crickets and locusts. We were both sticky and dirty and belonged in the hot night air like two refugees. I dreamed of bathing with him, seeing his naked body, cleaning him of anything grimy, all things dirty or shameful; cleansing him of anything that might cause him pain.

"I hope she's not mad at me, " I said. "I don't think I've been out this late before."

"You can tell her it was my fault. That way she'll be mad at me."

"That won't work. She knows when I'm lying. So I don't lie."

"You never lie?"

"Not to her I don't." We spoke very lowly to one another, as if we didn't want to disturb the cacophony of nature that surrounded us.

"Would you lie to me if I asked you something?" I stopped walking. What did he want to ask? My heart pounded inside my chest because I didn't want him to know the secret feelings I harbored for him. Still, I lied and said,

"No. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Good." He started walking again towards the house which was now in view. There was a yellow light on the porch beckoning us in.

"Well, what do you wanna ask me?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just good to know in case I wanna ask you something important sometime. I wanna know you're gonna tell me the truth." I was relieved.

"Ok. But same goes for you, too. No lies."

"No lies," he said. And I knew he meant it. I hoped and prayed he thought I meant it, too.

We stepped onto the steps that led to my door and the weeping wood announced our arrival. There was always an odor about the place. I had grown up with it, so naturally it didn't bother me. It was the smell of oldness, of stasis. I thought it smelled like stale bread. It didn't smell bad, it just wasn't very inviting. I hoped he didn't smell it the way I did. I knew when we entered the house it would smell of old grease. Surely she had fried something earlier that afternoon and painted the walls and the furniture, even the old black and white tv, with the unmistakable smell of Crisco.

"Well," I said. "It ain't much. But it's home." I opened the door to reveal a small but quaint living room. Furniture the color of vomit, that had obviously survived the Depression, in my humble opinion, draped with old quilts that Grandma had knitted, greeted us when we walked in. I shut the door and I heard Granny's tired footsteps coming down the hall ahead of us.

"Grandma? It's me."

"Well, I wasn't figurin' it'd be anybody else. Lord help me if I had a stranger in my house!" When she stepped foot into the hallway, she realized she did have a stranger in her house. "Oh! Well, now, who the hell is this?"

"Granny, this is my friend, the one I told you about."

"Ohh! That woody boy! Oh, well my goodness, how nice to meet you young man! Don't just stand there like you deaf and dumb! Come on over here and say hello!"

"Oh, uh sorry," he stuttered as he clumsily approaced my grandmother. My grandmother was old. Really old. Yet she intimidated Woody, it was obvious. She made him nervous. He twitched his fingers at his side and he gazed at her. I imagined how it would be if I were seeing this odd old person for the first time. He studied her old silver hair that was haphazardly pulled back into a falling bun, her blue sweater with lint balls stuck all over it that she had wrapped around herself as if it were a shawl like she was cold even though it was hot as shit, the creased but surprisingly tight brown skin that showed a life of hardship yet shined with vibrant energy, and her magnanimous eyes that engulfed you as soon as you looked upon her. My grandmother was quirky, that was for sure, but so kind and so wise, you could not help but be humbled by her. And Woody was. He extended his hand to her.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"No, that's just not gonna do. You're a friend of my baby's, so you gonna have to come give Granny a hug so I can feel your spirit, young man." She opened her arms wide for him like an angel disguised as a tired old woman, the yellow lamp behind her casting a glow around her slightly bent body. Woody looked back at me briefly, shocked, and then obliged. He wrapped his well defined arms around her tightly and she returned the gesture. It was a beautiful sight to behold. My grandmother, who I knew didn't have a kind place in her heart for anybody with a fair skin tone, welcomed this "woogie" boy into her home and into her heart.

"There, there child. If you're here with my Josh then God knows you must be somebody special." When Woody was able to pull away from that eternal hug, he had the biggest smile on his face. I pictured myself offering him my bloody beating heart on a platter of fried potatoes for that smile.

"I'm sorry Josh is gettin' in late, ma'am." He called me Josh. "It's all my fault."

"Oh, I don't worry myself none about my baby," she said as she slowly made her way to the kitchen, which was basically the same room as the living room, only there was dirty tile, a delapidated old refrigerator that barely worked and a surprisingly clean stove. Looking at it all in that moment I wondered whether or not I lived in poverty. I'd never really thought about it before. "No, no, no. He's special. The Lord has something for Josh to do, so I don't worry myself none over him. He's a good boy. A very good boy!" Oh my God, I wanted her to shut up! "You boys hungry? I fixed some Pork Chops and some mac and cheese and some cabbage." Woody looked over at me with voracious eyes and I knew she just offered him the world. It was that simple, huh?

"Yeah, Granny. We can eat." And with that said, Woody and I made our way to the table and she fixed our plates. I had never seen someone eat so fast in all my life. From the look on my grandmother's face, neither had she. And she'd been around a lot longer than I had. Imagine our surprise when after nearly licking his plate clean, he let out a giant belch that easily spanned the time frame of thirty seconds. And all he had to say was,

"Excuse me."

"Indeed!" my grandmother replied. "I'd offer you some more young man, but I'm afraid you've eaten all I had!"

"Thank you very much, ma'am, " he said with glee. "It was very good."

"Yes, I suppose it was," she said as she collected our plates. She went over to the sink and Woody was staring at me with absolute happiness. He kicked me under the table. Was he playing footsies or tying to tell me something?

"Granny, can I ask you a question?" He'd known her for all of five minutes and already he was calling her Granny?

"Uh-huh," she said without batting an eye.

"Why is it you think Josh sees ghosts?" Clank! She broke a perfectly good dish. She grabbed hold of her dirty blue sweater and swiveled on her dust stained slippers to look me dead in the eye. I couldn't do it. I covered my head. I thought she would embarass me, but no. It was Woody who was embarassing me.

"So, he told you about the ghosts? Josh, you didn't tell me you told him about the ghosts."

"Well, no offense, ma'am. But everybody knows. It's just I'm the only one who believes him. That's all."

"Woody, shut up!"